A Most Unusual Specimen
by E-Loveless
Summary: Bilbo Baggins was bound to be a rather odd hobbit, seeing as his mother was a Took. They just never expected his oddities to be...quite like this. It began as a little sprout of hair from the tip of Bilbo's chin, at the tender age of twenty-one.
1. Chapter 1

A Most Unusual Specimen

AN: And another idea rises from the chasm of my hobbit filled mind. :P To be perfectly honest, I'm not actually sure who I am shipping Bilbo with….For now, I am going to assume Thorin, but…..that could change, and if it does, I will change the categories accordingly. I will be writing this in conjunction with What Peace Brings, which will be ending in a few of chapters anyway, sadly. But here is this! And I hope you enjoy it. :D

Disclaimer: I do not make any claim on any of Tolkien's works, nor do I make a profit from this story. Throughout the story, there will be times that I use dialogue from the movies produced by Peter Jackson. I will mark those with a slight * at the beginning of the section and ending it with the same. After the first couple of chapters, all dialogue will be mine. If I am using too much caution in this, let me know. I am simply trying to avoid breaking any rules. :P

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Chapter 1

Bilbo Baggins was the perfect little hobbitling. Incredibly intelligent, intuitive, and curious, little Bilbo enjoyed running through the forests with his fellow hobbitlings, leading them on adventures to find elves or fight imaginary monsters. He would read all of his father's books and maps, trailing behind Bungo Baggins throughout the day and asking after words he does not understand, his eyes always wide and intense at the stories he read or heard.

Not to mention, he was just adorable.

With his bright curly gold hair and large bright green eyes, he would stutter his apologies and flutter his dark eyelashes whenever he found himself in trouble for trailing mud or trodding on gardens, and not even the most harden old mothers of the Shire could scold him for long. When his parents dressed him up in a bright green vest and dark maroon trousers, he would puff his little chest up and hold his button nose high and follow behind his father like a wee duckling.

He was the apple of his parents' eyes.

Bungo Baggins would beam at his little tyke whenever they were together, delighted at his son's intellect and gumption, though as Bilbo grew older he was becoming increasingly worried about his son's sense of adventure. Belladonna was delighted by this side, her little leaf's Took side, and had endeavored to nurture it while he was young, usually away from her husband's censuring gaze. After all, it would be quite some time before Bilbo needed to concern himself with the business of growing up into a proper gentlehobbit.

Or at least that's what Belladonna believed. The fates, it seemed, had other plans for young Bilbo Baggins.

It began as a little sprout of hair from the tip of her leaf's chin, at the tender age of twenty-one.

Most curious a thing. Belladonna had noticed it one summer night as she tucked him into bed after a long day of adventuring. She had touched it softly, tickling her leaf's chin and smiling fondly at his giggles. Later she had told Bungo about it as they readied for bed. He had started, rather shocked. A hair? On the chin of a little hobbit child? Preposterous!

She had insisted it was very true, and that he could look for himself, but Bungo Baggins was tired after a long day of business in Hobbiton and resigned himself to settle his wife's foolishness on the morrow.

When they woke the next morning and went to the nursery to wake their son, there were two new hairs joining the first on Bilbo's chin, both gold and curling.

Bungo and Belladonna were shocked to say the least. Hobbits, as a race, were a very hairless bunch, the largest wealth to be had could be found on their heads and the tops of their large feet. The last hobbit to have such hair was Belladonna's Grand Uncle, Bandobras "Bullroarer" Took, who had been the proud owner of large hairy side-burns that nearly reached all around his jaw. Bungo still privately thought that at some point in te Took line, a hobbit lass had mated with a dwarf, and that was the explanation behind Bandobras Took.

And now, it seemed that there little hobbitling was growing a beard like a dwarfling!

Bungo and Belladonna had debated long into the day and night about what to do about such a development while Bilbo had played in the forests, neither he nor his friends taking notice of the little hairs on his chin. Bungo wanted to remove them, sating that no respectable hobbit would ever have a beard! It was just not done! And his little boy was a Baggins, the most respectable of hobbit families. He would be taking over the Baggins name after Bungo was gone, and his father was determined to turn him into a proper gentlehobbit. And that would require having a hairless chin, like all the other hobbits!

Belladonna was fierce in her refusals of this. Her husband was most likely right; the Took line was known for its oddities and adventuring ways. Her blood was most probably the cause of this sprouting of hair on her leaf's chin. But that did not mean that they must cut them off! She did not truly believe that doing so would prevent any more growing, as hair was of that nature, and why on earth was that something to be ashamed of? Her great uncle had been revered throughout the Shire, side-burns or no. It was the actions of a hobbit that determined their worth, not their appearance! And her leaf was already an amazing little hobbit, intelligent, free-spirited, and bright. She would not Bilbo growing up as though his personality or appearance was something to be ashamed of!

They argued long into the night, long after they had eaten dinner and supper, long after Bilbo had been put to bed, wondering with a frown on his face what was the matter with his parents.

In the end, Belladonna agreed to an experiment; they would remove the scant hairs from his chin while he slept that night and see what resulted from that. Belladonna was still furious with her husband about this matter, but she had caved in when he had reminded her that Bilbo would likely become an outcast amongst their people, a weird hairy hobbit that the other hobbit parents would caution their children away from. Belladonna wasn't sure she believed this, but in the face of her little leaf's innocence and current happiness, she was willing to try this. Personally, she believed they would grow right back.

She was right, sort of.

When morning came, and they checked on their son as he slept, they found that not only had the hairs grown back, but they had doubled in number over night, now forming half a dozen tiny curls on Bilbo's chin.

Bungo had struggled with it for quite some time, retreating into his study for days, leaving his little son to wonder why his daddy suddenly seemed to hate him. When Belladonna had come across her little leaf's shaking, crying form in front of the door to his father's study, she had damn near throttled her foolish husband with her bare hands.

They agreed to talk about it with Bilbo, as that was really the only fair thing to do. Anxious at his father's recent disappearance and his disapproval, he had decided to shave the hairs off each morning and night, however often it took to be the proper gentlehobbit his father wanted. Belladonna had frowned severely at this but had not pushed. She knew eventually her leaf would decide to be his true self and let his hair grow from his chin and wherever else it happened to sprout up from, but for now the growing boy needed the approval of his father and the understanding of his mother.

And life continued on like this for the Baggins family in their confortable smial. Every morning, Bungo would carefully shave his son's chin, and after a while his upper lip too, which would grow a hearty ruff over night and once again after supper, all under the carefully neutral but slightly disapproving eye of Belladonna. A couple years into this pattern, Bilbo's chin would grow hair back so fast that he would often have to return between luncheon and afternoon tea to rid himself of the golden stubble.

As Bilbo grew older, he began to resent this constant shaving of his lip and chin and would sometimes deliberately stay out in the forests around the Shire in the afternoon, strangely proud of the rough stubble. He would come home with his nose turned in the air and his slightly furred chin held high, all the while ignoring the gossipmongers and the titters of scandalized hobbit lasses. His father would sigh wearily and look at him with censuring brown eyes. His mother always beamed at him from behind his father's back, immensely pleased by her son's actions.

When Bilbo came of age at thirty-three years, another most curious thing happened. The hair dusting his upper lip and chin became impervious to knife, blade, and razor alike. This had quickly frustrated Bungo Baggins, who tried everything known to remove hair, even attempting the use of fire, which had earned him a large bright pink handprint upon his cheek, courtesy of his wife.

The golden stubble grew quite quickly then, lengthening and lengthening, until Bilbo could tie it up with a leather thong above his chest. And though he was the scandal of all Hobbiton and beyond, he could not bring himself to feel any shame in his fast growing hair. His mother had commissioned a smithy in Bree to forge beads and trinkets for her leaf's golden beard, adornments she had seen upon dwarves that occasionally passed through the Shire on their way to the Blue Mountains.

Belladonna could not be prouder of her leaf than when he marched around the Shire as though it were his kingdom, showing off his now long curly gold beard, decorated with little flowers and suns fashioned from gold and silver, even a few gems she had gathered on the brief adventures of her youth and battered for in the markets.

Though the other hobbit parents of the Shire told their children to stay away from that odd Baggins boy, the other young hobbits, both lads and lasses, had taken to spying on the oddity that was Bilbo Baggins. They never approached him, though, not like they used to.

Bilbo had accepted his differences, even embraced them, but they did cost him a valuable thing. Friends. Not any of the other hobbits his age would hold conversations or companionships with him, fascinated though they were by the hair on his face. They did not want to catch whatever Bilbo must have that made him so weird, so unhobbit like. He was wild, adventurous, and beautiful like all Tooks are, like his mother was in her youth. But he was, at the same time, unlike any hobbit before. Had he not looked so much like Bungo, with his curly gold hair and warm cream complexion, albeit with Belladonna's leaf green eyes, the other gentlehobbits might have wondered if Belladonna had not committed some small indiscretion with a dwarf in the past that resulted in a hasty marriage and such.

It was a terrible day when, barely three years after Bilbo's majority, Bungo died quite unexpectedly.

The healers of the Shire could not fathom what had brought this early death upon a healthy male hobbit, barely making his strides into old age. All they could figure was that his heart had given out or that he had ingested something poisonous while on the road between Hobbiton and Bree, where Bungo traveled for business.

This prognosis did little to sooth Bilbo's or his mother's hearts. They locked themselves up in Bag End after Bungo's funeral, which all of the Shire was in attendance for as he had been a very prominent and well liked gentlehobbit, despite the idiosyncrasies of his son and wife. For days they remained in there, consoling each other and abstaining from the world outside their hobbit hole. At night, hobbits passing by their smial curiously could hear the beautiful meshing of Bilbo's tenor sounding voice and his mother's high soprano singing in the darkness the song of the mourning.

By the time they finally left their cozy hobbit hole and rejoined the world of the living, Bilbo seemed like a different hobbit altogether. He still wore his beard and such in much the same way as before, his clothing still fine and proper, but he seemed to have matured a great deal in the span of a few days. Belladonna also was changed, not smiling with the exuberance she once had and rarely leaving the hobbit hole that her husband had lovingly built for her so long ago. The mother and son often sang together at night, often a song that Belladonna had written after her beloved hobbit's death, a song about the Fading. It was a beautiful one but incredibly sorrowful.

A few short years later, when Bilbo was nearing the age of forty-four, Belladonna took also left this world, much the same way as her husband did, with little explanation. Bilbo had always believed that she had died of a broken heart.

And so, Bilbo Baggins was left alone in the vast and expansive tunnels of his family home, comforted only by his father's books and maps, his mother's tea set and lace dollies. Paltry reminders of the happy family he once had. Sometimes at night, Bilbo would sit on the bench outside his smial and sing his mother's song into the silence of the night, bringing tears to the eyes of any hobbit who happened to hear him.

When Gandalf arrived to disturb the repetitive schedule of Bilbo's life, the bearded hobbit wasn't sure whether to be agitated or grateful for a distraction from the aching loneliness he often felt in those days.

The old wizard had been shocked when he had journeyed up to Bag End and found a young hobbit, dressed in a gold vest and velvet tan trousers, smoking his pipe and stroking a long curly gold beard, magnificent in the morning sun with glittering gold beads and gems in the shape of small flowers and suns holding small weaving braids in place.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the older man, dressed in all grey with a silver scarf hanging around his shoulders, a large wooden staff in his hand and a tall pointed hat upon his head.

"Good morning," He said good naturedly, wondering at the strangeness of the gentleman.

*"What do you mean?" The old man asked with a raised bushy white eyebrow. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning? Or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?"

Bilbo lowered his pipe, his mouth opening in incredulity and confusion.

The old man continued, "Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you stating that this is a particular morning to be good on?"

Bilbo gave him a strange look, wondering at the sanity of this tall man. "All of them at once, I suppose," He replied hesitantly, taking a pull from his handsome pipe.

The older man's expression suddenly became rather foreboding, and he fixed Bilbo with a searching look.

The young hobbit shifted a little nervously at that before asking, "Can I help you?" He dearly hoped this strange fellow would leave soon. He was making Bilbo quite uncomfortable.

"That remains to be seen," The old man hummed quietly. "I am looking for someone to share in an adventure." He said quietly and with great mystery.

_An adventure_?

Bilbo fixed the stranger with a look of utter incredulity and nearly dropped his pipe. "An adventure?" He repeated with no little amount of outrage. "No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures" He said with a shake of his head derisively.

Bilbo rose from the benched and checked his mail box for letters, muttering "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. They'll make you late for dinner." He gave a little laugh at this, shuffling through his letters. His green eyes would dart up at the old man nervously, before he put out his pipe quickly and uttered another quick 'good morning' before attempting to retreat inside. He was stopped by the man's next words.

"To think that I should have lived to be 'good morninged' by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door,"* He said loudly with no small amount of irritation. "You are Belladonna Took's son, are you not?" At this, he surveyed Bilbo with a curious gaze, his grey eyes fixed most notably on the large golden beard. "Bilbo Baggins?"

*"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Bilbo countered rather defensively, the hand not holding his pipe running a self-conscious hand over his beard, making sure there were not hairs out of place or beads falling off.

"Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it." He swept his arms out and gestured to himself emphatically, shouting "I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means…me."

Bilbo felt a sudden burst of recognition for the name. "Not Gandalf the wandering wizard who makes such _excellent_ fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!"

At this, Gandalf straightened with pride, a small smile appearing on his wizened face, which quickly died at Bilbo's next words.

"No idea you were still in business." Bilbo coughed absently.

Gandalf's eyes narrowed. "And where else should I be?"

The bearded hobbit became a little flustered at this, muttering a few unintelligible things, before puffing his pipe rather sheepishly.

Gandalf sighed. "Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it is my fireworks." He gave a small nod of his head. "Well, that's decided. It'll be very good for you…and most amusing for me.* I had worried at first that you would not be welcomed, but well…" He once again gave a curious look at Bilbo's long beard. *"I shall inform the others."

Bilbo gave a start at this, protesting the willfulness of this strange wizard fellow. "Inform the who? What? No. —Wait!" He spluttered quickly turning back to the bright emerald door of his hobbit hole, gesturing wildly back at Gandalf and shaking his head. "We do not want _any_ adventures here, thank you. Not today, not—I suggest you try over the hill or across the water. "

He gestured away from Hobbiton with a few waves of his pipe, before entering his home with a quick 'good morning!'

Bilbo slumped against his door, calming his nerves that had been set awry at the wizard's words. He wondered anxiously if he was still out there. He crossed to the window but quickly leapt back as Gandalf's face seemed magnified by the glass, one large grey eye looking within.

Bilbo could hear an odd scratching on his door, and he hastily looked out the window again, seeing the wizard headed away from his smial, off down Bagshot Row.

For the rest of the day, Bilbo found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Gandalf or these ambiguous 'others' following him around the market or on his way back home. No one was there, however. And by the time supper arrived, Bilbo was once again quite at peace, alone in his comfy home and having quite forgotten about Gandalf's surprise visit.

He had just been about to dig in to his supper when his doorbell rang out of the blue. Bilbo was mighty confused. No respectable hobbit would come a-visiting during this time; it would be quite rude to intrude without warning upon another's meal.

He stood up from the table and walked quickly to the door, a little worried that there was an emergency or something dreadful like that. When Bilbo reached the door and opened it, instead of finding one of his neighbors or cousins, he found a dwarf. A giant of a dwarf, indeed.

The large, muscled man turned to look at him, folding great beefy arms the width of tree trunks across his broad chest and fixing him with a fearsome look in his dark eyes. The dwarf's baldhead was covered in faint tattoos, his large ears pieced with metal plates, and great iron armor encasing his forearms and chest. He had thick brown hair that haloed around the back of his skull and large tuffs below his great nose and the slim view of his mouth. A long leather cloak was draped over his shoulders and armor.

The dwarf opened his mouth to speak but then caught sight of the hobbit's beard. Bilbo watched surprised as a bright red flush worked its way up what little the hobbit could see of the dwarf's neck and face, his eyes becoming rather wide and bright.

Observant a dwarf as ever, Dwalin had noticed a few of the Halflings as he had journeyed through the Shire on his way to the meeting, but none of them had had any facial hair whatsoever. He had walked up to this brightly painted door with Gandalf's glowing blue signature on it expecting to find a small beardless Halfling, barely able to hold an axe or lift a sword.

Instead he had found a rare beauty with bright eyes like emeralds and long hair like streams of gold that danced in the flickering light of the candles inside the entrance. This hobbit, for surely that was what it was, living in the heart of this green land, had skin that looked as soft as cream and as smooth as the flat side of a blade, excellently crafted and forged with dwarven hands.

And his beard…

Dwalin could barely take his eyes from the long golden length. He imagined it was very soft, sliding easily through the fingers like rivers of gold. There were small braids interwoven through the curly mass, held together by delicate flowers of gold and emerald. Not adornments made by dwarven hands, the craftsmanship was not fine enough, but still…they make a fine sight for weary eyes.

"Dwalin," He bowed slightly, never taking his eyes off this small, beautifully bearded hobbit dressed in only a comfort robe and some linen wears. "At your service."

Bilbo started a little at the deep rough voice of the dwarf and hastened to belt his robe when he realized it was gaping open, revealing his nightclothes. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours."* He stuttered out hesitantly, a little in awe of this bear-like stranger. He stepped back and watched with much confusion as the dwarf lumbered in.

And so began the night that would ever change young Bilbo's life.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed this first segment! :) More soon, if I can manage it. Definitely by Thursday, along with another chapter of What Peace Brings for whoever is reading my other Hobbit story. ;D

Next Chapter: Bilbo meets the rest of the company, who are quite fixated on his lustrous beard! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

A Most Unusual Specimen

_Italics_ are thoughts

**Khuzdul** is in bold.

So, to be perfectly honest, marking every little thing I used from the movie!verse is a pain in my butt. Most of you know which lines are from the movie, so you can tell for yourselves. :P If it's an issue, well….I'll just have to take it down. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, it's rather long. I tried not to make the dwarves too obsessed with Bilbo's beard that the story is outlandish, but I want it to be fun. :)

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Chapter 2.

"Do we know each other?" Bilbo floundered for words, rather befuddled at the sudden appearance of this fierce warrior dwarf.

Dwalin gave him an incredulous look. "No." _Aye, I'd remember you, laddie_, Dwalin thought to himself. Dwalin would never have forgotten a being with such a magnificent beard. He could scarcely disdain the hobbit for his gentle, inexperienced ways in the arts of war and weapons when all he could see when he looked at the lad was rich curls of gold on his head and chin and bright emerald eyes.

Dwalin shook himself and strode past the hobbit, attempting to distract himself. "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?" He walked toward a back tunnel, quietly appreciating the mastery of this underground hole. The woodwork was incredible, rich browns and golds arcing overhead, the hanging chandelier just barely grazing the top of Dwalin's bald head. He noticed a particular smoothness below his furred boots and looked down to find small square tiles along the floor, sometimes covered by soft looking rugs. Upon noticing a bench along the entryway, Dwalin tossed his heavy traveler's cloak and pack upon it, not hearing the slight huff of the little hobbit behind him.

Bilbo closed the door reluctantly, his confusion causing his face to scrunch up with distaste. "Is what down where?" He asked, his eyes following the dwarf warily.

"Supper. He said there'd be food. And lots of it." Dwalin walked quickly past Bilbo again without looking, and found the kitchen and Bilbo's slowly cooling supper. "Ah! Is this all? You're gonna need a lot more than that, laddie. This is barely a bite."

"He—He said?" Bilbo trailed behind the burly dwarf, his hands wringing with nerves. "Who said?" But the dwarf gave no appearance of having heard him.

Bilbo watched, appalled, as this strange dwarf littered with tattoos, iron piercings, war axes, and rough leathers and furs ate his dinner right in front of him. The poor hobbit had no idea how to handle this situation. Hobbits were very fond of visitors, but there was a protocol for this sort of affair! There was the notice or invitation that one must receive, and permission, of course, and adequate time to prepare enough food and —

"Very good, this. Any more?" Dwalin asked longingly, not that the hobbit had any clue indication of such in his low rumbling voice. All Bilbo heard was a brutish growl.

Dwalin had not had such delicious food since before the fall of Erebor. The fish was exquisitely seasoned and cooked with exact care. Dwarfs were never ones to particularly enjoy eating vegetables, but these sliced carrots, chunks of broccoli and potato were spiced with a little sugar and cinnamon that made them simply fantastic. _Balin would appreciate these_, he thought absently, closing his eyes in delight after a particularly hardy bite of fish. Not only did the hobbit have a beard of spun gold and jewels for eyes, the little creature could cook as well! Dwalin wondered if he had ever met so attractive a creature. If only he had some skill with a weapon…Well, Dwalin could certainly teach him the way of the axe...along with a few other things…

"What? Oh, yes, yes. Ah." Bilbo walked toward the counter under the window, noting absently the dark blue of the evening sky. A bowl of buttered rolls sat on the sill, and he picked it up with some reluctance, subtly sliding one into his robe's pocket. "Here you go." He gave the bowl to the dwarf, knowing with a sinking feeling that they would all be in the dwarf's stomach in a short while.

Dwalin accepted the bowl eagerly; while delicious, the meal he had just eaten was barely more than a tease, and he was still quite hungry.

Bilbo controlled his expression expertly when the dwarf began to rudely stuff rolls into his mouth like some heathen. What atrocious manners!

"Hmmmm. It's just that, um," Bilbo sputtered, not wanting to offend this dwarf, who quite frankly looked like he could easily wring the neck of even adult hobbits and was of a mind to do so. "I wasn't expecting company tonight."

And, of course, right as he said this, his doorbell rang merrily a few tunnels away. The dwarf Dwalin tilted his head and raised an imperious eyebrow at the hobbit, muttering, "That'll be the door," before returning his attention to polishing off the rest of the rolls.

Bilbo walked toward the door, fussing with his robes and running a hand over his beard. Upon the opening of his door, he found another dwarf waiting on his step. This one had a long white beard parted with two tails and great bushy eyebrows. His traveling cloak was a deep maroon with bands of gold markings around the collar and cuffs. Bilbo could see a deep hood hanging from around the dwarf's shoulders.

He smiled in a friendly fashion and said, "Balin, at your service." He swept into a much deeper bow than the previous dwarf.

Balin and Dwalin? Bilbo gave a brief moment to wonder at the similarities in their names, before he replied with a quiet, "Good evening."

"Yes. Yes, it is." Balin the dwarf replied throwing a cursory look up into the sky. The older dwarf's voice had a deep rolling curve to it, something that Bilbo had understood to be rather rare amongst dwarfs. At least, those he had met in passing whenever they crossed through the Shire on their way to Bree. "Though I think it might rain later." He fixed Bilbo with a firm look, though he still smiled. "Am I late?"

Bilbo gave him a similar searching look that he had tried on the other dwarf but to the same effect. "Late for what?"

The noise of metal clanging on glass interrupted their conversation, and they both turned to find Dwalin attempting to draw a few pastries from a glass jaw, his knuckle dusters making such a ask very difficult.

Balin let out a short laugh and headed toward him with a large grin on his face. "Evening, brother."

_Well, that explains the similarity_, Bilbo thought blankly, still holding the door open.

Dwalin returned the laugh, his hand still stuck in the pastry jar. "By my beard, you're shorter and wider than last we met."

"Wider, not shorter." Balin corrected him sharply, though there was still a wealth of fondness in his voice. "Sharp enough for both of us." He winked conspiratorially at his brother.

They laughed lowly and placed their large hands upon the other's shoulders. For a moment, they just stared at each other until, much to Bilbo's shock, their foreheads suddenly smashed together. This had Bilbo moving forward with concern and more than a little agitation, which was somewhat cooled at the happy faces of the dwarf brothers.

"Excuse me? Sorry, I hate to interrupt. But the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." Indeed he was entirely sure they had the wrong house, but a proper hobbit does not just come out and say such things. It would be very rude to do so. Bilbo tried in vain to get their attention, but they seemed inclined to ignore him, talking amongst each other in a foreign tongue that Bilbo had never heard before.

"**And my**," Balin continued, throwing his brother a sly look, "**the beard on this hobbit lad.**"

"**Indeed**," Dwalin replied gruffly; he did look over at Bilbo, looking with disguised awe upon the gorgeous hair.

"**It'd be the envy of the Blue Mountains, that's for certain**," Balin muttered appreciatively. "**I don't believe Gandalf mentioned anything of such a sight in his message. Do you think he does anything in particular to it? It seems awfully soft…"**

"**Hmmmmm**…" Dwalin murmured in agreement. "**I don't know**." _But I certainly intend to find out, _Dwalin thought.

Balin gave a knowing, and amused, look at him, before he looked over his shoulder and saw the pantry full of food and two kegs of ale. They sauntered over and inspected the food, Dwalin pouring him a mug of the honey colored brew. The dwarves seemed to not notice the hobbit trailing behind him and talking anxiously all the while.

"It's not that I don't like visitors. I like visitors as much as the next hobbit," Bilbo bit out with frustration. A block of good quality blue cheese was tossed over his shoulder as the dwarves muttered and speculated on his pantry. "But I do like to know them before they come visiting." He harrumphed at this, tugging smartly at the collar of his robe.

"And the thing is—the thing is, I don't know. Not in the slightest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I'm sorry." He nearly shouted this last bit, and the dwarves froze and turned to look at him, seeming surprised hat he was even there.

"Apology accepted," Balin replied good-naturedly."Ah, now, fill it up, brother, don't stint." Dwalin gave a huff before returning to the keg's faucet.

Bilbo floundered at this. That was certainly not what he had intended! These dwarves, just barging into his house-This was _his_ house! What on this earth—

The doorbell rang again, and Bilbo turned to answer it, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach. When he opened the door, with an exasperated whine, Bilbo found two more dwarves standing on his doorstep. These were significantly younger than Dwalin and Balin. They were both youthful and handsome, though nearly complete opposites in coloring. The dwarf on the left had long light blonde hair and blue eyes, a large proud nose, and a short beard with two braids hanging down from the corners of his smug smile, held together by silver clasps. The other had dark hair, half of which was pulled back from his face, and dark brown eyes, a rather small nose for a dwarf, and barely any stubble to provide a dusting upon his face. And while the one on the right wore a travel cloak with sandy fur on its trim, the other wore a dark blue and grey leather cloak, a black cylinder of what appeared to be arrows held in the crook of his arm.

"Fili," The one on the left of lighter coloring introduced himself.

"And Kili," The other darker one followed with a wide grin.

"At your service," They both echoed, bowing deeply before straightening. They get their first good look of the hobbit and are shocked at what they find.

"You must be Mr. Boggins! But you—you have a beard!" Kili exclaimed loudly, looking very upset.

"A very fine one at that," Fili said a little wondrously, stroking his own furred chin. "**Very fine, in fact**."

Bilbo knew it was rude to do so, but he simply could not let any more strange dwarves into his house! He attempted to shit the door, all the while muttering, "Nope! You can't come in. You've come to the wrong house!"

A strong hand prevented the door from closing, and Kili looked worryingly into the hobbit's face with large brown eyes. "What? Has it been canceled?"

"No one told us," The other said, pushing the door wider and giving Bilbo a rather suspicious look.

"Can—No, nothing's been canceled!" He said with incredulity, though he regretted this a moment after as the dwarves pushed their way into his home.

"That's a relief!" Kili grinned, but quickly frowned once more as he got a closer look at the hobbit's beard under the candlelight.

Fili let out a sudden bark of laughter, doubling over and pointing a thick finger at his brother. "A hobbit!" He shouted with laughter, gasping for breath. "A _hobbit_ has a better beard than you, Kili! "

"What? No, no! That's not fair!" Kili cried out in despair. "It's not the same thing, completely different situations! Fili! Fili!" He shouted in vain at the other dwarf, whom Bilbo assumed was at least family if their names were any indication.

The other dwarf continued to chuckle as he began to remove the weapons from his back and hip, placing them into Bilbo's very unprepared arms with a smug smirk. "Careful with these. I just had them sharpened."

Bilbo began to protest, but was interrupted again by Kili who, relieved that his brother was not teasing him any more about his nonexistent beard, was scuffing his feet on Bilbo's mother's glory box!

"It's nice, this place! Did you do it yourself?" Kili grinned, ignoring the scandalized look on the hobbit's face.

"That's my mother's glory box! Could you please not do that!" Bilbo felt as though he were scolding a child, very angry at the audacity of these dwarves! "And no, it's been in the family for years. My father—"

"Fili, Kili! Come on, give us a hand." Dwalin strode through suddenly, throwing Bilbo a quick perusal of his form before grabbing Kili by the shoulder and pulling him along after him.

"Mr. Dwalin!" Kili laughed warmly, patting a companionable hand on Balin's shoulder as he walked past the elder dwarf, Fili strutting along behind him after throwing a rather suggestive look at Bilbo.

"We'll have to shove this in the hall. Otherwise, we'll never get everyone in." Balin commanded sagely, rubbing a hand down his white beard.

"Everyone?" Bilbo questioned in a bit of a panic. "How many more are there?"

His doorbell rang once again, seeming to mock Bilbo's misfortune now, and he stalked away to answer it, steaming with anger now.

"Oh, no," Bilbo muttered furiously, throwing the heavy weapons ladling his arms onto the floor in the hallway. "No. No. There's nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some clot-head's idea of a joke—Ha ha!—I can only say," He grabbed the door handle tightly and wrenched it open. "—it is in very poor taste!"

Dwarves poured into his door, falling upon their faces and muttering very loudly. A tall form peered from behind the pile of disgruntled dwarves, holding a long wooden staff and wearing a pointed grey cap. A wizened, amused face looked in at him.

Bilbo gave a long-suffering sigh at the sight. "Gandalf."

The dwarves picked themselves up, some immediately walking past him and into the kitchen, an incredibly large red-haired dwarf with a braided loop hanging from round his middle nearly knocking over the others in his haste. A cheerful looking dwarf with a strange hat and dark braids that seemed to defy gravity brushed off his clothes and greeted the hobbit with a dimpled smile, though his large brown eyes widened at the beard.

"By Aulë that's a beard!" He shouted sounding a little astonished.

"Yes, well," Bilbo fidgeted, stroking a self-conscious hand down his front. Why on Middle Earth was it such a big deal for him to have a beard? Sure, amongst the hobbits, it was indeed rather odd, but these were dwarves! The most hairy of all races! Thrice now, a dwarf had seemed concerned with his beard!

"Name's Bofur, Master Baggins," The dimpled dwarf smiled shyly. Bilbo noticed with rising horror that a blush had formed on the dwarf's face, and he had taken off his hat to give a deep bow. "You—you have a lovely home here."

"Oh, well," Bilbo stuttered, rather pleased. Perhaps not all dwarves had the manners of a troll. "Thank you. My father made it himself. For my mother. As a wedding gift." He smiled hesitantly at Bofur.

"And is that a normal courting gift?" Bofur asked, sounding very interested in his response. He had even leaned forward a little, making Bilbo realize that they were rather uncomfortably close together.

"No, not usually. I—" He stepped back a few paces and saw a few other dwarves eyeing him up by the entrance to the dining room. They quickly turned away, and that was when Bilbo noticed that the dwarves were raiding the pantry, carrying bowls of his food out and onto the table.

"What are you all doing?" He asked outraged, moving over to intercept them, but it seemed as though the dwarves were as unstoppable and as easily persuaded as the Brandywine River. Most shouted brief words of thanks and appreciation, as though Bilbo had bought all of that food for them and they were not looting it from his shelves!

"This was not my intention at all!" He clambered into the streams of traffic. "Put those back! Those are my prize-winning tomatoes! Do not—That's a tad excessive, don't you think? Hey! Have you even got a cheese knife?" He watched helplessly as the rotund dwarf from before carried three of his best cheese wheels into the dining room.

"'Cheese knife'? He eats it by the block." Said the dwarf with the strange hat, Bofur. He himself was holding the large honeyed ham that Bilbo had purchased at the market a few days before and had been saving for a special occasion.

Bilbo opened his mouth, feeling exasperated as never before, but he was quickly sidetracked by two dwarves carrying chairs into the room. "No, no, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair! Take it back please! Those are antiques, not for sitting on! And that is am book, not a coaster! Put that away!"

But all of his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Literally, as the dwarf he was attempting to push back, was Oin, who was a medic and legitimately hard of hearing.

Gandalf watched over all this, infinitely amused at Bilbo's frantic posturing and the excitement and exuberance of the dwarves. Though he did feel rather guilty for springing this upon the hobbit, the old wizard thought that the lad could use some change in his life. Belladonna Took would have never wanted to quiet and solitary a life for her son as he had been living, and Gandalf was intent on fixing that. Bilbo could learn much from the dwarves, and the wizard suspected that in time, they would learn a great deal from the hobbit, too. Gandalf was positive that Bilbo would agree to accompany them on the journey; so really, he wouldn't need all of this food after tonight, would he?

He had been rather surprised that morning to see the beard on Bilbo! Imagine that, facial hair on a young hobbit! Probably came from his mother's line, Gandalf mused. It was certainly added amusement for the wizard to watch the reactions of the dwarves to this unexpected development. He wondered idly what Thorin's reaction would be…

The rest of the company had plenty to say of the hobbit's beard, Gandalf discovered as he eavesdropped on their conversations. He had known Khuzdul for quite some time now, not that the others realized this.

Gloin was muttering to Nori in the corner as they filled goblets with mulled ale, occasionally throwing quick looks at the hobbit whenever he flitted by.

"**Mahal, that is a fine beard**…" He murmured staring longingly at Bilbo's beard.

"**You're married,"** Nori pointed out quietly, his sharp eyes also following the bustling of the lithe hobbit through the tunnels, though his attention was not always upon the long length of gold in the front but occasionally upon the tight little backside. "**With a son, too**."

"**That does not mean I can't appreciate a beautiful beard like that when it comes by**!" Gloin defended himself, his own large red beard dipping a little into an ale. "**I imagine even me wife would be tempted**…"

"**Do all hobbits have beards like that**?" The littlest dwarf Ori asked his brother, having snagged a cup and drinking from it with wide eyes.

"**No, Ori**," Nori replied and whisked the ale from his younger brother's hands. "**And quit that, you'll ruin ya dinner before it's even begun.**"

"**You sound like Dori**," Ori muttered petulantly. He considered making a lunge for the cup but decided against it and began to stuff a few rolls in his mouth instead.

Gandalf looked around for said dwarf and saw Dori making his way toward him, immaculately dressed and his grey braids impeccably done. He carried a tray ladled with a tea set.

"Mr. Gandalf, may I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?"

"Oh, no, thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think." He stood at this and ducked his head under an archway, deciding it would be wise to have a head count. His head brushed against the chandelier, nearly setting his grey hair on fire, before he swiftly recovered.

He counted up the dwarves, noting the dwarven princes, Balin and Dwalin, Ori, Nori, and Dori, Oin and Gloin, Bombur, Bofur, and Bifur. Twelve dwarves.

"We appear to be one dwarf short…" He muttered to himself quietly.

"He is late, is all."

Gandalf turned to see Dwalin leaning against the wall, drinking contentedly from an ale.

"He traveled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come." Dwalin turned back to his ale as Bilbo attempted to save his tomatoes from Bombur once more.

Bilbo was ready to pull his beard out! All these dwarves, swarming his hobbit hole, eating all of his food, tracking dirt all over the rugs and scuffing the tables and chairs! And then they began eating, and Bilbo was sure he had never seen so disgusting or appalling sight in all his life! They guzzled down all of his ale and proceeded to expel gas in some sort of barbaric contest or something! How ridiculous! And all the while, they muttered in that foreign tongue of theirs whenever he walked past, eying him up like meat on the table!

Bilbo was not an idiot, of course. He knew they were talking about him, but confound it all! What right did they have to gossip like hobbit lasses on a market day! They were the interlopers, for goodness' sakes! And Gandalf was no better, the damned wizard! Just watching and laughing!

He was just tugging irritatedly on the end of his beard when a small voice piped up from behind him.

"Excuse me, sir. I don't mean to interrupt," The young dwarf that Bilbo had come to understand was called Ori was looking awkwardly at the hobbit with a leather bound book open and a quill poised in his hand at the ready.

"Uh, yes, what is it?" Bilbo rubbed his forehead wearily.

"I was wondering if I could ask a few questions, if you wouldn't mind," Ori kept darting looks down at his golden beard.

"Fine," Bilbo replied shortly. He was quite finished with this entire business,

"Do all hobbits have beards?"

Bilbo had already anticipated this question but was still rather aggravated by it. "No, no, just me. My great-grand Uncle had large side-burns, but I am the only hobbit s far that has grown a beard. And before you ask, I've had it since I was young, and I do not know why."

"Oh," Ori replied faintly, before a blush warmed on his face. "And do you—I mean—where did you find those clasps and—and do you do anything special to it? Any oils or—or—"

"What? No, I just brush it, and my mother bought them at a market. Why are you asking these questions?" Bilbo looked suspiciously at Ori and just then noticed that the room had become quiet. He looked up and found that nearly every dwarf suddenly turned their head away quickly, some necks even giving a rather sickening crack. Bofur, who was sitting closest to the doorway, flushed bright red. Most of the other dwarves had a perfected casualness to their postures and quickly began cover-up conversations.

_What on earth was wrong with all of these dwarves?_

Bilbo wondered for a sickening moment if he had offended the dwarves by decorating and fashioning his beard in what is mother had told him was a distinctly dwarven fashion. He certainly didn't want to offend them, eve though they had barged into him home and eaten all his food. But honestly, it's not like there is a hobbit way for him to fashion his beard! And he couldn't cut it, so—

"Also," Ori stuttered nervously and picked up his empty plate. "What should I do with my plate?"

What followed made Bilbo wonder if perhaps he hadn't offended some witch or spellcaster in the past, because surely,a curse had bee laid upon him. How else was he to explain why there were twelve dwarves tossing and abusing his mother's West farthing cutlery as though they were sticks or rocks by the river, all the while making a mockery of his hospitality by singing a demeaning song about 'what he hated'! He could think of twelve more things to add to that list that could certainly do with a good washing and wringing out!

And then a booming knock had sounded at the door, causing everyone to become silent. Gandalf shifted in his seat, his beaming face becoming infinitely more somber.

"He's here."

They all gathered quickly at the door of Bilbo's hobbit hole, Gandalf reaching there first and pulling the door open. Bilbo shuffled behind the door, unable to see the dwarf walking into his smial.

"Gandalf" Bilbo heard a deep voice greet the old wizard and the thick thumping of footsteps on his tiled floor. "I though you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice."

Bilbo snorted quietly at this, though he was still unable to see from behind Gandalf's large form. Really, twice? There were signs everywhere in the Shire. There was actually a specific sign pointing in the direction of Bag End!

"I wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."

Bilbo stepped around Gandalf at this and walked quickly toward the open door, wanting to see this supposed mark. "Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark," Gandalf said rather sheepishly as he closed the door. "I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield." He gestured grandly toward the dwarf that had just entered, but said dwarf was still turned away, muttering quietly with Balin and tossing his coat on a nearby bench stacked high with other such coats.

What Bilbo could see of Thorin Oakenshield was very impressive, indeed. This dwarf had large shoulders and a broad back, not as tall or muscular as Dwalin, but certainly imposing in his own right. He seemed to have long black hair streaked with veins of silver, and he wore dark blue vestments with fur trim, a long heavy looking sword hanging from a leather strap on his hip.

"So," The dwarf began, turning around to face Bilbo. "This is the—"

He stopped and a look of confusion overtook his previous expression of mocking derision. Thorin Oakenshield had deep blue eyes, a ruggedly handsome face, and a rough rasp of stubble on his chin and underneath his proud nose. His face had the lines and heaviness of one who had experienced mush in a short amount of time, and he seemed regal, like a king, even as he looked upon Bilbo with a rather dumbfounded expression.

"I—you—" He stopped and turned to look at Dwalin, shifting into Khuzdul. "**The hobbit has a beard**."

"**Aye**" Dwalin replied with a raised eyebrow.

"**A very nice one, at that**," Balin added, with a nod.

"**But**…"

"**He said he's had it since he was little**!" Ori piped up from the back, wanting to please their leader. "**I asked him, I did.**"

Dori placed a hand over his younger brother's mouth with an embarrassed look on his face. Ori muttered petulantly from behind the hand.

"**It's very comely, to be sure. Those gold beads are in the shape of little flowers…**" Dori said with a little longing in his voice. He felt the hobbit's beard was very charming indeed, well kept and decorated nicely. Little flowers and suns…how sweet.

"**I touched it real briefly. It's really soft**," Kili added with a hushed and awed tone of voice, his cheeks turning pink at this brother's and uncle's looks.

"**And it looks like running rivers of gold in the firelight**…" An unknown dwarf murmured quietly from the back.

"**It smells nice too, kind of like a mix of flowers and mountain air**," A gruff voice came from the back as well. Thorin suspected it might have been Gloin, but…

Thorin sent Balin a questioning look at this, who rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and shook his head.

"Hmmm…..**Anyway**," He stepped forward again and felt a small bit of pleasure at the hobbit's wary look. " Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Bilbo wrinkled his nose at this. "What?"

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" He sneered quietly at the hobbit, attempting to ignore the hair falling from the hobbit's small chin. It was a difficult thing, though. Thorin could grudgingly understand the apparent fascination of his company with Baggins' beard, as it truly was a magnificent thing to behold. It was a respectable length, was an astounding hue of gold, and was well kept and soft looking. He would have to work hard to ignore that and focus on the hobbit aspect of this creature.

From what Thorin had gathered from Gandalf, hobbits were weak and fussy creatures, completely untried by war or strife, most of which having never seen battle for hundreds of years. They were concerned with food and family, Gandalf had said. In other words, they sat around all day eating and talking. Thorin found he resented hobbits for this lifestyle, as he and his people had suffered and toiled in the cities of men for a long time, working long and hard for just a few scraps of food. It did not make much sense, but he disdained the hobbits for this, nonetheless.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," Bilbo retorted, sensing the ridicule in Thorin's tone and look. "But I fail to see why that's relevant." He finished a little less sure of himself.

"Thought as much," Thorin smirked at his kin and smiled jeeringly at Bilbo. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The company laughed at this and followed Thorin into the dining hall. Gandalf had chuckled but upon seeing Bilbo's confused and rather insulted expression, he had quieted quickly and had patted the disgruntled hobbit on the shoulder.

The dwarves all sat at the table, Thorin at the head eating a bowl of soup, and discussed things that Bilbo had never heard of before apart from his books and maps. He watched quietly as Gandalf revealed an aged map and an iron key, mystifying the dwarves and giving them hope for a chance to recover their homeland, Erebor, and discussing the dragon Smaug. Bilbo still wondered what they were doing in his house, as surely they could have had this conversation somewhere else, but he felt his soft heart reaching out for these dwarves, who seemed very desperate to reclaim their mountain. Soon, however, he gathered what Gandalf wanted from him exactly.

"The task that I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage." He looked quickly at Bilbo when he said this, drawing a look of confusion from the hobbit. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori piped up suddenly from the corner, looking at Bilbo with near adoration.

"Hmph. And a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine." Bilbo agreed, not noticing that he was the subject of the company's scrutiny.

"And are you?" Gloin asked with narrowed eyes, leaning forward in his seat.

Bilbo looked behind him, wondering if he were really asking someone else. "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert!" Oin shouted happily and giving a laugh.

"Me? No. No, no, no! I'm not a burglar! I've never stolen a thing in my life!" Bilbo replied indignantly.

"Well, I'm afraid I must agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Balin said with a pointed look at Thorin, who looked stoically back at him with a small nod.

"Aye, the wild is on place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin agreed with his brother, and the dwarves began to discuss this, most agreeing that it was too unsafe for the hobbit.

"Plus, what about the beard? The dragon could really damage that if we sent the hobbit in," Bofur added a little humorously, though there was seriousness to his suggestion.

"Aye," The other dwarves nodded at that with grim faces. The younger dwarves began proclaiming that they would defeat the dragon, while the others argued amongst themselves loudly, until Gandalf suddenly loomed over the table, the light dimming and a shadow spreading over the ceiling as his voice boomed over the mayhem.

"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar, he is." Gandalf huffed slightly at this, but continued. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. They can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the scent of dwarf, the scent of hobbit will be all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage."

Bilbo raised his hand and opened his mouth as though to interrupt, but Gandalf surged on relentlessly as he turned to Thorin. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself." He added quietly, looking deep into Bilbo's eyes before returning his own to Thorin Oakenshield.

"You must trust me on this," He said rather ominously.

He and Thorin looked at each other searchingly for a long moment, before the dwarf murmured, "Very well." He turned to Balin, and said, "Give him the contract."

The events that followed, i.e. the fainting and such, were not Bilbo's finest moments, he will willingly admit. But really, a small hobbit like him? Face down a dragon? No, no, that just wouldn't do. He was a Baggins, regardless of what Gandalf said. And while he had certainly been adventurous as a young hobbitling, he was an adult now, and as proper a gentlehobbit as he could be, considering his oddities. And even though the song and deep voices of the dwarves followed him into his sleep and haunted his dreams that night, he would not be going on that adventure on the morrow.

Though it was definitely rather flattering to have so many appreciative of his beard, as he had come to realize was the source of their incessant questioning and stares. It had been rather obvious when he had headed for bed after making sure his uninvited but nonetheless welcome guests were settled for the night. He had wished them a good night, when Ori had suddenly stopped him with a call of his name.

"Well, good night, all" Bilbo headed toward his room, relieved at the sight of his warm and comfy bed and the prospect of a peaceful night's sleep.

"Wait, Mr. Baggins!" A voice called out.

Bilbo turned back to find nearly the entire company watching him from their make shift beds in the living room. Ori shifted nervously in his spot by the banking fire, fiddling with his knitted scarf. He murmured something so quietly that Bilbo had to ask him to speak a little louder.

"Are you….going to unbraid your beard?" Ori's face was bright red at this, and most of the other dwarves hurriedly went about their business, though Bilbo noticed a great many had large ears pointed in their direction.

Bilbo looked at them all with sleepy eyes, wondering if their sanity was failing. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Maybe you could do it out here so we could…or maybe—could we watch?" the young dwarf squeaked.

"What? No, you can't watch!" Bilbo huffed, looking at them all incredulously. "Goodness, the nerve of these dwarves! Watch me prepare for bed, why I oughtta-!"

He had stomped into his room, face aflame, completely missing all of the sighs of disappointment and the pitying pats on Ori's shoulders as the dwarf looked rather crushed. They'd all wanted to see it, at least once, since they'd probably never even come to the Shire again, and it seemed as if Bilbo would not be joining them on their quest. To the dwarves, the grooming of beards was a family event and usually private, but…an exception could be made for a beard like that.

Such a shame…

"I just wanted to see him brush it," Ori whispered to his older brother, who gave him a consoling pat on his shoulder.

"I know, laddie," Dori whispered back. "I think we all did. It is a nice beard, after all."

So when morning came and the sun rose into the sky as they rode their ponies, nearly all of the dwarves were absolutely delighted to hear the loud shouts of a hobbit running after them, his eyes bright with excitement and his beard flying behind him in the wind.

* * *

Is this considered beard!kink? I'm really not sure...I certainly didn't intend….But it's like 1 a.m., and I have not read this over for spelling errors, so….forgive me. :D Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this!


	3. Chapter 3

A Most Unusual Specimen

AN: No, this is not an early April Fool's joke. :D This is legit, people. This chapter ended up being 19 pages long in Word, so I freely admit that I am too lazy to go back and proof read it. There shouldn't be many mistakes, though. I'm usually pretty good about that. Also, I have decided upon who will be Bilbo's hunky dwarf love. It's Dwalin. XD Which I kinda think I had subconsciously decided that already by the end of the first chapter...but anyway, this fic will be moved to Dwalin/Bilbo Baggins for the next chapter, to ensure that every one who is reading it now and wants to continue, gets the memo!

Well, enjoy! :D

* * *

Chapter 3

By the third day of their journey, Bilbo was ready to pull his hair right out of his head. He wondered if there had ever been so frustrating an idea as traveling with a group of thirteen dwarves and a wizard, and he found himself cursing his Took heritage every day for compelling him upon this foolhardy adventure. Perhaps the journey would not be so horrible if the dwarves he traveled with acted anything like the ones he had met when he was a child running along the roads through the forest and bombarding the random travelers with questions of the outside world.

No, these dwarves acted very peculiarly, especially when Bilbo's beard was concerned. From the very moment that he had caught up with them before leaving the Shire, they had incredibly odd. Most would not even look at him apart from passing glances, and never at his face! They didn't seem to want to talk to him either, mumbling or grunting whenever he asked a question about the road or their personal lives.

Bilbo could not help but feel a little insulted and hurt by this. They were to be travel companions, possibly even fight together and protect each other! Surely it would not be so egregious a desire to get to know the dwarves he would be spending the next few months with. But Bilbo had to remind himself that _he_ was acting with complete decency. It was the dwarves who were behaving without any sense of decorum or friendship.

As Bilbo discovered rather quickly, dwarves had no problem with physical contact, though the hobbit had certainly not expected to be a recipient of this until much later.

As he rode on that treacherous pony that first day, Bilbo had spent most of his time chatting with Gandalf about various little things and about the path set before him. The dwarves had not seemed to pay him any mind, but Bilbo began to notice a few odd things.

He would feel odd pats on his shoulders or arms, as though someone had placed a hand there. When he looked, however, nothing was there, and not a single dwarf was close enough that they could have done so. Or at least, Bilbo thought that to be true. After the first couple of times, Bilbo had begun to suspect that maybe Gandalf was playing a little joke on him, but when the wizard rode ahead of him after a couple hours, it happened again.

After the sixth or seventh time it had happened, and oddly close to the small of his back too, Bilbo had had quite enough of that nonsense.

"Okay, joke's over. It's annoying now, so you can just stop it," Bilbo scolded the dwarves riding behind them, which he noted with suspicion were the dwarven princes, Kili and Fili.

"Stop what, Mr. Baggins?" Fili asked him with an innocent expression that Bilbo did not buy for a moment.

"All that poking and touching nonsense. I know that you all are doing it. I'm not crazy," Bilbo scolded, waving a raised finger at them. "Or at least, I thought I was not, before all this." The hobbit continued with a small sigh, shooting a small glare at Gandalf's back.

"What do you mean 'before all this'? " Kili asked curiously as both brothers pulled their horses up to ride on either side of the hobbit. "Is it so unusual for hobbits to leave?"

"Oh, yes," Bilbo nodded his head emphatically. "It is most improper for an adult hobbit to do such a thing. Very improper."

"But why?" Fili continued. "Surely it gets boring there, just sitting around in your holes and reading books and drinking tea all the time."

"Well, those things seem boring to you, Master Dwarf," Bilbo gave him a stern look that had the tops of his ears going pink. "We hobbits are very simple creatures, not fond of adventuring or fighting. We enjoy parties, family gatherings, and food. Large amounts of food. Most hobbits are very good at cooking. I myself am considered one of the best in Hobbiton." At this, Bilbo puffed out his chest with pride and was rewarded by the eager nods of the brothers.

"Aye, the food did taste wonderful last night," Fili agreed, reaching over and placing a hand upon Bilbo's shoulder, hiding a smile as Bilbo frowned at it with confusion. "The ale was particularly good. Sweet like honey, but smoky too. Like firewood."

"How did you manage to make it taste like that?" Kili leaned closer with a grin on his face.

"Well, that was the Took family's personal brew," Bilbo told them with a small smile. "And it's a secret recipe at that, so I suppose you'll never know exactly how I did it."

"What?" Fili's voice had the beginnings of a whine in it, and he gave Bilbo a wide blue-eyed plea. "But, Mr. Baggins! I've really taken a liking to your _personal_ brew! How exactly am I suppose to attain more if you don't let me in on the family secret?"

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't missed the odd emphasis that Fili had put on 'personal brew,' nor had he not seen the quick heads turning in their direction. He looked up to see Dwalin staring at the dwarf prince with narrowed eyes. The burly dwarf saw that he had caught the hobbit's attention and had quickly averted his eyes. Bilbo noticed with some surprise that the tips of Dwalin's iron ringed ears had gone a little pink as well.

"Well, I suppose once this journey is through, you'll need to come back and visit the Shire."

"You never know what might happen with adventures like this, Mr. Baggins," Fili gave him a sly grin. "You might just end up staying in Erebor with us, once we've slain the dragon and all. You could settle in the mountain, start up a business…find a good dwarf lass…" He watched Bilbo carefully at this. "…or dwarf lad."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the sudden interest in that last statement from the dwarves around them. A curious stillness was now present amongst them, straightening their backs and turning their ears ever so slightly in Bilbo's direction. The hobbit let out an exasperated huff.

"If there's something you're asking after, come out and say it."

"We were just wondering if…it was a normal occurrence…for hobbits." Kili mumbled quietly from Bilbo's right. Bilbo turned to him.

"If what is?" Bilbo asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated. "Two hobbit lads getting together?"

The brothers shared a quick glance and then nodded. Bilbo sighed, wondering what the big fuss was about.

"Quite normal, actually." Bilbo told them with a quirk of his lips. "As I have said, hobbits are a peaceful bunch. If two hobbit lads, or hobbit lasses, of course, are in love, then it is completely acceptable. Now, if they are just fooling around, well, that's another thing entirely." Bilbo said with a derisive shake of his head. "Especially if something unexpected comes out of it, like a child."

"And can that happen?" Fili asked rather urgently, leaning so far off his seat that Bilbo worried he would slide right off his pony. "Can two hobbit lads have children together?"

They were looking at him with very wide eyes, as though this were the most surprising or far-fetched idea that they had ever heard. Bilbo snorted at this, and opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by a loud shout from the head of the line.

"Fili! Kili!" Thorin barked from the front. "Get up here. You're going to scout ahead for awhile."

"But—" The brothers shouted, throwing fast looks at the hobbit.

"Now!"

Fili and Kili moved quickly at that, grumbling all the while about strict uncles and curious hobbits, throwing Thorin upset looks. He ignored them and turned back to the front, though his eyes did stop on the hobbit, staring blankly at Bilbo before he glared and turned around.

Bilbo frowned at that and ran a soothing hand along his beard, which was much less adorned than it had been before. It wouldn't do to lose the tiny flower and sun ornaments that his mother had given him along the road. Now that he was away from home, he wouldn't be able to care as diligently after his beard as he had been able to before. He usually washed every other night, as he hardly ever worked up a sweat or became dirty during the day. He did have to wash and groom his feet every night, as hobbits did not need to wear shoes. The only benefit that Bilbo could see to riding the pony was that his feet were not quite as dirty as they might've been. The pony's hair, though, did tickle his feet with every movement.

During the nights, after they had settled their camp and eaten food, Bilbo would settle next to the fire and groom his beard and feet. When he had first begun doing this, he had been decidedly nervous, as the dwarves had already demonstrated that they had a rather odd reaction to anything beard-related. But this was a habit that Bilbo had always had since he had first grown his beard as a tween hobbit lad and had been competing he had shared with his mother, so he was loathe to abandon it now. It also brought him comfort, which he desperately needed as he was feeling increasingly homesick.

So he would plop himself down near his pack and reach into an inner pocket, pulling out a small cloth-wrapped package and carefully ignoring the scrutiny of the dwarves. His mother had always been a master with a knife and wood, a talent that was not very well known amongst the Shire. As a present for Bilbo's thirty-fourth birthday, she had crafted a small wooden brush with thin steel bristles for him to brush his beard with, and he had ever since. He adored this brush, with its flowers and vines carved into the handle and the small letter 'B' inscribed along the neck, one of the last true reminders of his mother's love.

After untying the leather thong, he would run his brush along the edges of his beard first, working out the kinks and tangles that had made a home there during the rough pony rides through the wilderness, and slowly make his way upward, unwinding all of the interwoven braids as he went. Since he was traveling amongst nature, Bilbo had used a more sturdy and resilient kind of braid, as opposed to the delicate and more intricate braids he used while at home. And though he knew that it was most certainly an unnecessary luxury, he had brought the scented oil that he liked to comb into his beard and hair. If there was one thing that he could most likely get away with being vain about in the company of thirteen dwarves, it was his beard.

And, by the grace of the Valar, was he ever right.

He doubted a group of dwarves had ever been so quiet for this long, as they watched with avid eyes as Bilbo groomed his beard lazily by the firelight. Some of the older dwarves attempted to appear busy with other things, drinking from mugs, messing in their packs, or talking amongst one another, but their eyes were eventually pulled back to the hobbit grooming a beard of flickering gold and humming softly in the night.

Whenever Bilbo tugged at a particularly strong tangle, a ripple would flow through the company, and those nearest would shift uncomfortably in their seats. After a while, the brush would run smoothly through the long length, and Bilbo would continue these gentle strokes mindlessly, his sleepy green eyes staring endlessly into the fire. A couple of the dwarves even fell asleep to the soothing rhythm and sweet humming of the hobbit, while others were kept awake from a decidedly different stirring in their blood.

When Bilbo began braiding his hair for the next day, he found that Kili and Fili had moved on either side of him and were watching closely. He chose to ignore them, not really feeling up to answering the endless questions of curious dwarf princes who had been even more inquisitive since they had discovered gender did not matter to hobbits when it came to picking life partners. They surprisingly refrained from talking as well, and Bilbo found that whenever he needed a spare hand to hold a strand of beard, Kili or Fili would eagerly offer up a hand, seeming both delighted and smug that they had gotten to touch the hobbit's beard.

Only Fili noticed the glaring gaze of a few of the other dwarves such as Dwalin and Bofur, though he noticed that Nori as well was looking a little envious around the eyes. He smirked triumphantly at them, though that smugness fell quickly when he saw Dwalin's grip on a war axe tighten and a nasty grin crossed the tattooed dwarf's face. After that, Fili was a little more careful about taunting Dwalin. He didn't relish losing a limb so early in his life.

Once Bilbo's gorgeous beard was all braided up, the hobbit moved away from the brothers with a small grateful smile and retreated to his bed roll hopefully for a good night's sleep. Kili and Fili pondered joining him and laying their bedrolls on either side but reconsidered it when they noticed the glares coming from the other dwarves by the fire.

This pattern continued for the next couple days, and though they could be annoying, the dwarf princes were becoming amusing travel companions to Bilbo. Bofur had also spent a lot of time by his side on the road, telling stories of his life and asking Bilbo about his own. Bilbo found he quite liked Bofur, with his dimpled grin, dark brown eyes, and cheerful attitude. Bilbo often woke up grumpy and dour from an uncomfortable sleep and no second breakfast or elevensies, but Bofur seemed to always be around with a helping hand and amusing tale to brighten the day.

Oblivious to Bilbo, a competition of sorts had begun between Bofur and the dwarf princes. A competition over Bilbo's attention. It was rather unfair of the brothers as it was two against one, but Bofur's brother and cousin came to his aid more often than not, tripping up their feet at camp, blocking their horses on the road to give Bofur more time with the hobbit. Thorin and the other older dwarves had noticed, but other then roll their eyes with exasperation, they had done nothing to discourage it. If Kili and Fili were occupied with the hobbit, then they were less likely to run off the road and cause havoc.

Of course, Kili and Fili managed to cause havoc anyway. They just included the hobbit this time.

* * *

On the third night, when they made their camp in the dregs of an abandoned barn, Bilbo shuffled around the campsite, helping distribute food to dwarves and worrying over Gandalf's disappearance. He had made a little niche for himself with the dwarves by now, but the hobbit felt much better when Gandalf was nearby.

As it was, Thorin was scowling at everything, in particular the hobbit flitting around camp, and in general being a very sour presence amongst the group. Dwalin sat nearby, sharpening his axes and talking in grunts and murmurs to the other dwarf. He too was watching the nervous movements of the hobbits, though with a different kind of heat.

Dwalin had not spoken to the hobbit beyond grunted commands since that night in the hobbit hole, which had led the hobbit to believe that the burly dwarf disliked him. One peak into his mind, however, and this proved to be far from the truth of things. Dwalin discovered that he held a reluctant desire for the small creature, and not all of that desire was simply for the glorious beard hanging from his small chin.

Dwalin found that the hobbit's near constant dithering about, the stutters and sighs, the crinkling around the green eyes, the wringing of his small tender hands, all of it was –damn it all- was endearing to the warrior dwarf. As one who had grown up with the expectation of bearing arms, fighting for his king and people, one might think that the soft nature of Bilbo Baggins would put Dwalin off, that he would find the small being weak and unsavory. But after so many years of coming home after battles, fights, or training sessions to find an empty house, the prospect of finding a partner had become more and more appealing to Dwalin as the years passed. And he did not want some manly dwarf lass who would cut a dwarf's balls off for suggesting that she make dinner every once and a while.

No…no, he wanted a partner that waited for him to return home with a smile, who would make delicious food for meals, that would help bandage his wounds. He wanted someone soft, someone who would worry for him, however needlessly that might be, when he was away defending his kingdom. He wanted a partner that would hither and dither about the house, fuss at him for treading mud on the carpets or leaving his axes lying about, and make biscuits every afternoon.

He did not know yet if he wanted Bilbo Baggins to be that partner, but…he knew he certainly wanted someone _like_ the hobbit.

Said hobbit was now wavering around the pot of stew next to Bofur, looking about into the darkness with worried eyes.

"He's been a long time," He muttered to Bofur, still pacing nervously around.

"Who?" Bofur asked, ladling a helping of rabbit stew into two large bowls.

"Gandalf."

"He's a wizard! He does as he chooses," Bofur smiled at him, sounding completely unconcerned. "Here, do us a favor. Take this to the lads." He nodded toward the forest. Normally, Bofur would not give the brothers such a perfect opportunity with Bilbo, but they had been tasked with looking after the ponies, which was arguably the worst job possible on a quest. He felt a bit bad for them. Not to mention this would give Bilbo something else to focus on apart from the wizard's absence.

Bilbo accepted the bowls, though a frown still marred his face and wrinkled his nose. He walked cautiously over the roots and rocks on the ground, making his way over to the little forested area that the ponies were resting in, ever conscious of the two full and steaming bowls of soup in his hands.

When he made his way over, he saw Kili and Fili through the darkness, standing still and fixed in place next to one another. Bilbo reached them, looking around warily. They were staring into the clearing with something near dismay on their handsome faces. Bilbo held out the soup to them, but the brothers still did not move.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked quietly.

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies." Kili replied with a grimace.

"Only we've encountered a slight problem," Fili continued, staring out into the pasture.

"We…had sixteen."

"Now there's fourteen."

Bilbo's eyes widened at this, and he stood on his tiptoes to attempt a head count of the horses. Fili and Kili swept through the field almost noiselessly, counting up the ponies with a soft touch to their heads and a whisper of their names. Bilbo trailed behind them, until they came upon a large upturned tree, its thick roots hanging from the thick trunk.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing." Kili told them, looking very worried.

"Well, that's not good," Bilbo gave a nervous laugh and then caught sight of the fallen tree with horror. "And that is not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

He wasn't really asking. Bilbo knew they should tell Thorin. But the brothers shook their heads quickly, and Bilbo noticed they grew a bit pale at the suggestion.

"Uh, no," Fili said quickly. "Let's not worry him. As out official burglar, we thought you might like to look in to it."

He most certainly did not want to look into it! Bilbo might not have experienced much of the world, but he was not so blind that he could not see that something very large and very dangerous had passed through and taken their ponies. He told the brothers this, to which they agreed.

Looking around into the darkness of the night, Fili suddenly stiffened and crouched low, saying, "Hey, there's a light!"

He threw a look back at Kili and Bilbo, before he began making his way towards it, motioning for them to follow. Kili did instantly, but Bilbo was much more reluctant. After all, seeing a fire in the forest not more than a few yards from where a large tree had been overturned as though is were a sapling did not seem like the safest place to head towards. But he followed anyway, becoming increasingly nervous.

"Stay down," Kili whispered from ahead, reaching back and placing a firm hand on Bilbo's back. If that hand was a little too far down, well, Bilbo was far too preoccupied with the grunting snorts and rough voices coming from up ahead.

"What is that?" Bilbo asked a little fearfully.

Both Fili and Kili narrowed their eyes. "Trolls."

They stood up quickly and dashed around the fallen log, though not before Kili's hand slid down too far.

"Kili!" Bilbo admonished sharply, but the dwarf only grinned back at him for a brief moment before following his brother.

Bilbo hastened to follow them, knowing the kind of trouble they could get themselves into, and tried not to jostle the bowls, though much to Bilbo's irritation, a bit of soup did manage to splash onto this beard. He caught up with the brother in time to see a monstrous lumbering creature with pale rough skin and large thick limbs carrying to whinnying ponies in his arms with little difficulty.

Bilbo darted behind a tree quickly, glancing around the trunk to watch the giant. "He's got Myrtle and Minty!" He whispered to the brothers worriedly. Bilbo hated having to ride on a pony, but he had grown to love Myrtle, who was a sweet pony with a friendly disposition who really loved apples.

Bilbo sighed at what he was about to say. Seriously, how did he keep getting into these messes? "I think they're going to eat them. We've got to do something!"

Fili and Kili whipped their heads around to look at him and nodded eagerly at him.

"Yes, you should." Kili agreed with wide brown eyes. He reached for one of the bowls in Bilbo's hands and leaned against the tree that Bilbo had just occupied. "Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small, they'll never see you."

"What? Me? No, no-" Bilbo stuttered incredulously and tried to protest, but he was quickly interrupted.

"It's perfectly safe. We'll be right behind you." Kili assured him, drinking a spoonful of stew.

"If you run into trouble," Fili added, taking the other bowl out of the hobbit's hands and giving him a firm push ahead. "Hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl."

"Twice like a barn owl. No, twice like a brown owl—once like a—" Bilbo stuttered, trying to quickly regain his equilibrium. "Like a—Are you sure this is a good idea?" He asked looking back worriedly.

He growled when he saw that both Kili and Fili were gone. He nearly followed, but he remembered Myrtle's sweet face as she ate an apple he had been able to slip for her the night before and couldn't leave her behind without trying t save here. So he headed for the light, inwardly cursing Kili and Fili and swearing to have his revenge once this was all over. A little closer, Bilbo could make out the words being grunted by the trolls.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow."

"Quit your griping. These ain't cheap. These is fresh nags!"

Bilbo was close enough now that he could see the fire. Three humongous trolls lumbered around the site, one stirring at a large black cauldron over the fire, another sat on a rock and watched the third lift the ponies into a little fenced off area near the cliff side.

"Oh, I don't like horse. Never have. Not enough fat on them," whined the troll sitting down. This troll seemed a little less intelligent than the rest; at least that's what Bilbo could gather from the dumb grin on his ugly face. It wiped its dripping nose with a disgusting squelch, and Bilbo felt a little of his dinner lurch into his throat at the sight.

"Well, it's better than that leathery old farmer," Grunted the troll stirring the pot. This one seemed to have seen more violence than the other two, as part of its face was bunched up and scarred, the eye on that side white and unseeing. "All skin and bones, he was. I'm still picking bits of him out of me teeth."

Bilbo gave himself a moment to pity that poor farmer before he returned his attention to the trolls, moving swiftly through the underbrush and retreating behind a tree just on the outer ring of the clearing in which the trolls prepared dinner.

The second troll, the stupid looking one, let out a high shout and gave a great sneeze, snot flying from his nostrils and into the simmering pot. The cooking troll stood up at this and smacked the other over the head.

"Well, that's lovely, that is. A floater."

"Might improve the flavor," said the last troll, who pulled a ragged knife from behind and began sharpening it against a rock.

The second troll smiled at this pronouncement and exclaimed, "Ah! Well, there's more where that came from!" It pulled in air into its nose, the sound wet and nasty in the noiseless night, but the first troll reached out a quick meaty hand and grabbed ahold of the other troll's nose.

"Oh, no, you don't! Sit down!" It shouted, its voice gruff and angry sounding. The troll shoved the other away and took up his post in front of the pot again, stirring agitatedly.

By this time, Bilbo had reached a corner of the horses' pin, and he tugged forcefully at the ropes, but they were incredibly thick, nearly as dense as Bilbo's arms. He huffed frustrated, but quickly swiveled out of sight as the dumb troll stood to look at the ponies.

"Well, I hope you're going to gut these nags. I don't like the stinky parts." The troll let out a sudden yelp as the cook smacked him in the head with a huge iron ladle and barked at him to sit down.

"I'm starving! Now are we having horse tonight, or what?" The third bellowed from his rock, waving the blunt knife around in the air.

"Shut your cakehole," The cook growled menacingly. "You'll eat what I give ya."

Bilbo looked over at the trio of trolls nervously, wondering if they were going to begin fighting amongst each other, when he caught sight of the large make-shift sword hanging off the leather belt of the stupid troll. With a horrible realization, Bilbo knew that if he was going to free the ponies, he would need something sharp. And the stupid troll was less likely to notice his sword going missing.

"How come he's the cook?" Whined the third troll as he inspected the grime and blood under his fingernails. "Everything tastes the same. Everything tastes like chicken."

"Except the chicken," The second troll snickered.

Bilbo crept toward that troll silently, wincing and shushing at the ponies that had begun to whinny a little at his presence.

"I'm just saying, a little appreciation would be nice," The cooking troll muttered petulantly, before he stopped talking altogether and sniffed suspiciously.

Bilbo froze with fear at this, attempting to will himself invisible. But the troll just shrugged and continued complaining, and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. He crawled forward on his hands, and noticed with a fierce surge of panic as a large hand began grasping at the air over him. He ducked even lower, allowing himself a brief grimace as his beard trailed in the dirt, before he scrambled forward into the shadow of the stupid troll, listening to them argue.

He crouched low behind the troll, and his hands began to flutter uselessly at the bindings of the swords, as he had no idea how he was going to take it off the leather belt. Another giant hand reached over him, and Bilbo skidded quickly back and watched in horror as the crude beast scratched at his arse like an animal.

"Oh, me guts are grumbling. I got to snaffle something." The third troll rumbled. "Flesh, I need flesh!"

The troll that Bilbo stood behind began shaking for some reason, and Bilbo looked at it with confusion, until he heard, "Ah! Ah!" and this time, the hand did not pass over him.

Bilbo was lifted up into the air and was thusly covered in horrible, stinking troll snot. The troll gave a surprised cry, as did Bilbo upon the discovery that trolls were even uglier up close. He looked up at the stupid troll with a terrified expression and moved around his the giant hand, feeling nauseous at the disgusting slime that now clung to his clothes. And his beard! Oh, his beautiful beard was covered. For a moment, Bilbo thought he was going to cry at the thought.

"Blimey! Bert. Bert!" The troll shouted with surprise. "Look what's come out of me hooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!"

"What is it?" Said the troll called Bert, looking at Bilbo with wonder.

"I don't know! But I don't like they way it wriggles around!" The second troll shouted again and tossed Bilbo to the ground.

Bilbo landed hard on his side but stood quickly, ignoring the pain in his arms as he did so. He looked up at the trolls that loomed over him.

The third with the jagged knife took a step towards him. "What are you, then? Some kind of squirrel?"

Bilbo, bless him, gave an answer before he could stop himself. "I'm a burglar—Uh, hobbit!"

"A burglar hobbit?" The stupid troll repeated incredulously and a nasty grin formed on his face.

"Can we cook him?" The third troll asked, his knife swinging dangerously in the air.

"We can try!" The troll skirted around the cauldron and tried to grab the hobbit, but Bilbo darted away and tried to escape into the forest. Unfortunately, the cook troll had anticipated this, and Bilbo turned around quickly only to find the third troll's blunt knife pointed at his chest.

"Perhaps there's more burglar hobbits around these parts." The troll growled hungrily. "Might be enough for a pie!" He shoved the hobbit back, and Bilbo jumped around the grasping hands.

"Grab him!"

"He's too quick!"

"Come here, you little—"

And Bilbo was hoisted off the ground once more, dangling upside down by his feet. Bilbo floundered and waved his arms around, very disorientated and afraid. The troll that had him in its grasp pointed the knife precariously close to Bilbo's face, and what little of the troll's face that Bilbo could see through the matted curtain of his beard was a nasty suspicion in its face.

"Now, are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?"

"No," Bilbo answered quickly. If he was going to be eaten by trolls, then he would save his companions a similar fate. Even if it was Kili and Fili's fault he was in this mess.

"He's lying!" Hissed the second troll. Maybe it wasn't as stupid as Bilbo had assumed.

"No I'm not!" Bilbo shouted, straining to catch his breath.

"Hold his toes over the fire! Make him squeal!"

Then the troll let out a shrieking cry of pain, and from the angle at which Bilbo dangled, he could see the flash of steel and dark haired figure with a wide smile on his face.

"Drop him!" Kili yelled at the troll holding Bilbo.

"You what?" The third troll stared at Kili in shock.

"I said, drop him!" Kili repeated, twisting his sword in a threatening manner and sneering at the beast.

Bilbo heard a horrible animalistic growl before he was thrown through the air at Kili, who hastily opened his arms to catch the flying hobbit. And then a battle cry was sounded through the clearing as the company of dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield dashed into the clearing and began to wage war against the trolls, shouting and swinging weapons fiercely.

Kili helped Bilbo off the ground hastily and then threw himself into the fray, a manic grin on his face as he joined his brother in slicing at the cooking troll. Bilbo stumbled against a tree and watched the battle with wide eyes. Though the dwarves seemed not even tall enough to reach the troll's knees, they were holding their own against them. Bilbo saw one troll give a vicious kick, and Nori soared through the air, yelling and trying to keep ahold on his weapon. Bilbo seemed to move without conscious thought and threw himself under Nori before he could get seriously hurt, cushioning his landing with a breathless huff. Nori scrambled off him and gave him a quick word of thanks before he ran back into the battle.

The loud cries of the horses drew Bilbo's attention next, and he darted his way through the battlefield to the horse pin, hefting up the second troll's makeshift sword on his way. He saw out of the corner of his eye Oin falling onto the ground, his weapon flying out if his hands. A giant fist was about to come crashing down on him, and Bilbo clenched his eyes shut and swung the sword clumsily in that direction, hoping for at least a solid hit. The loud shriek of a troll alerted him that he had been successful, and he opened his eyes with relief, seeing Oin give him a thumb's up.

He moved back towards the horse pen and sawed at the rope, which took nearly no time at all, and the horses broke free, running off into the dark forest. Bilbo turned back for just a second and caught a glimpse of Dwalin's face, lighted by the fire. He was grimacing fiercely and swinging his axes with devastating effect, if the pained howl from the stupid troll was any indication. Bilbo, a little bit afraid but mostly in awe of the warrior dwarf, never even saw the troll looming over him furiously and the hand reaching for his back.

He was lifted into the air yet again and held one to gently by two of the trolls, who each held an arm and a leg apiece. He looked fearfully down at the company, most of which were gathered in front of them. Kili tried to lurch forward and swing his sword to save the hobbit, but his uncle held him back.

"Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his off!" The troll commanded, giving a vicious tug on Bilbo's right arm. Bilbo cried out at that, pain sparking fiercely in his shoulder and his hands clenched uselessly in the air. He looked down at the company through clenched eyes, feeling ashamed that he had landed them in this predicament.

Thorin looked up at the pained hobbit, seeming so small trapped there in the grip of the trolls, and raged internally. Not even for a moment did he consider forfeiting the hobbit's life, but he thought frantically for a moment about any other options, When he came up with none, Thorin threw his sword onto the ground, the company following his lead. Kili had looked incredulous at his uncle and infuriated with the trolls, but at his uncle's glare, he threw his sword down too.

The trolls made quick work of putting all the dwarves into leather sacks and securing them tightly. After their stew had been ruined and the horses released, the trolls fixed a roaster up over the fire and tied nearly half of the company onto it, slowly turning them. The dwarves were all protesting, shouting insults or hollering alternatives, trying to free themselves from their bindings.

It was a horrible situation. Bilbo was trapped in a sack and lying next to Balin and Bombur, listening to the trolls.

"Don't bother cooking them," The second troll suggested, throwing a few new logs into the fire. Nori and a few others let out cries of alarm. "Let's just sit on them, and squash them into jelly!"

"They should be sautéed and sprinkled with a bit of sage," Murmured the cook troll, poking at the dwarves trapped on the rotating stick with a large finger to test their temperature.

"Oh," The other troll moaned, "That does sound quite nice. "

"Never mind the seasoning!" The third troll grunted, turning the stick faster with anticipation. "We ain't got all night. Dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Turned to stone? Of course! Bilbo sat up quickly and shuffled himself to a standing position, calling out, "Wait! You are making a terrible mistake."

"There's no reasoning with them; they're halfwits!" Dori shouted from the roasting pile.

"Halfwits! What's that make us, then?" Bofur called back, still managing to be humorous in a bleak situation.

"I meant, the—uh—the seasoning!" Bilbo continued, grasping for any little idea at stalling the trolls.

"What about the seasoning?" The cook growled, leaning down closer to the small hobbit.

"Well, have you smelt them?" Bilbo asked sardonically, raising an eyebrow. "You're going to need something a lot stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!" He hopped forward, nearly stumbling over Fili's body and moving closer to the fire. He could see Dwalin's red and sweating face in the heat of the fire and felt a shiver of fear slide down his spine.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" The third troll grunted, clearly wanting to ignore the silly little thing on the ground.

"Shut up!" The cooking troll hissed, before turning back to Bilbo. "Let the, uh, flurgaburburhobbit talk."

Bilbo pretended to give a thankful smile at this troll, before he began to flounder for an answer. "The secret to cooking dwarf is-is-" He had to stop for a moment, the lunacy of that statement stalling his tongue, but he was prompted by the trolls to hurry up.

"Yes? Come on, tell us the secret!"

"Yes, yes, I'm telling you, the secret is…"Bilbo searched for something that would take a large amount of time and found an answer, though he winced at the reactions he knew he would receive from his companions. "…to skin them first!"

As he expected, all of the dwarves cried out in outrage, thrashing in their bonds and hollering things at him, promising revenge and the like. Bilbo tried to ignore these, as he knew that they would forgive him when their lives were saved from this, but it did still hurt Bilbo, for reasons he did not know, to hear Dwalin growling threateningly at him from the roaster.

"Tom, get me filleting knife." The cook ordered.

"What a load of rubbish! I've eaten plenty of them with their skins on!" The third troll roared. "Scarf'em I say, boots and all!"

A quick shadow moved over the lip of the rocky cliff above, and Bilbo thought he saw Gandalf's pointed hat in the lightening sky. Or at least he hoped it was Gandalf come to save them.

"He's right," The stupid troll drawled. "Nothing wrong with a bit raw dwarf!" The troll lurched forward, reaching a hand out for Bombur and pulling the dwarf up into the air. Bombur gave out a cry of alarm as he dangled over the troll's mouth.

"Nice and crunchy!"

The troll lowered the dwarf to his mouth, ignoring Bilbo's shouted protests, but surprisingly he let out a disgusted sound and tossed him back onto the heap.

"I just remember why I don't like raw dwarf anymore!" The stupid troll whined. "The hair! So much hair, always gettin' in the way and stopping up my throat and stuff!"

The dwarves all breathed a sigh of relief, as did Bilbo.

"Well, we all have plenty of hair," Bilbo shouted helpfully. "There's no escaping it, really. It's everywhere. On the back, the chest, the legs, it'll clog up your systems; very painful indigestion, I assure you. I wouldn't risk it."

"What would you have us do, then? Shave them all or something?" The third troll grunted out with suspicion in his beady eyes.

The dwarves gave an even bigger protest against this, seeming to much rather be eaten than have their beards shaved off! Bilbo gave them exasperated looks, but his attention was quickly elsewhere as that troll lumbered toward him, carrying his blunt knife in his hands.

"Let's have you first, then, little ferret! And then, I'll eat ya raw meself!" His empty hand reached out and grabbed Bilbo's poor beard quite painfully, causing the hobbit to let out a yell. The dwarves all froze for a moment, realizing that the most perfect gold beard in the world was about to be brutally hacked off by some stupid beast.

"Don't you dare, you thrice bedamned son of an orc—"

"I'll kill you, swear to Mahal! Get your hands off me hobbit!"

"Don't do it! Please, not the beard! Anything but the—"

But the troll's arm had already swung back, and he brought the knife down ferociously upon Bilbo's beard. The hobbit was terrified that he would miss, that this was the moment that he would die, skewered on the end of a troll knife, but thankfully the troll's aim was spot on.

The knife hit squarely on the length of Bilbo's gold beard, but instead of slicing through, it was repelled back, throwing its wielder off balance and sending him crashing back onto the ground. The dwarves had all cried out in shock and now stared in awe as Bilbo slumped to the ground, frightened but otherwise unharmed. And his beard! It was still intact and as beautiful as ever, if a little worse for wear.

"Curse it!" The troll had recovered very quickly and was again standing over Bilbo with his knife pointed at his head. "What trickery is this! That's not hair! That's gotta be rock or stone! This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"The dawn will take you all!" A voice boomed throughout the clearing, and in a glorious burst of light, Gandalf shattered the cliff's rock wall and showered the company in the light of the morning sun.

The trolls gave a few feeble bellows of pain, fighting against the light and cowering away, their bodies stilling and greying until they were immobile rock giants, never to eat dwarves or hobbits ever again!

The company instantly rejoiced, calling out praise to the wizard and yelling in triumph. Gandalf quickly freed the relieved dwarves on the ground, and they moved to free their brethren from the roasting stick. He personally freed the hobbit, giving him a private smile and a wink, before he moved on. Bilbo had smiled back and had freed Fili and Kili, who hugged him between them with loud laughter. They released him after a moment and swept through the campsite, meeting their uncle with relieved grins. Thorin grabbed them firmly on the shoulders, smiling back at them softly, before he ventured off to question Gandalf, leaving the rest of the company to question the hobbit, as they all suddenly remembered what had happened right before Gandalf had burst in.

"How on this earth were you able to repel that knife?!" Nori asked incredulously, looking at Bilbo's beard with no small amount of wonder.

"What's it really made of? Is it really made of gold? Mithril?" Kili questioned with wide eyes, leaning forward to inspect the beard.

"No, no, it's made of hair, I assure you." Bilbo raised his hands defensively, not used to being the subject of so many stares and questions. "You can see for yourself, if you'd like!"

He instantly regretted offering this, as nearly all the dwarves surged forward at this tempting suggestion, and there were at least a dozen hands running through poor beard. It was not that they were hurting him, because they were surprisingly gentle, but the shock of it all and the light tugging sensation from all around had Bilbo taking a couple hurried steps back from the huddle. They all seemed ready to follow, even taking a few steps forward here and there, but a sudden growl erupted from the right, and everyone turned to see Dwalin standing there, his face a thunderous forbidding scowl. No one moved a muscle.

Bilbo shifted awkwardly, throwing a grateful look at Dwalin, whose expression lightened somewhat at that. "My beard…my beard can't be cut or burned off. I don't know why that is, or what makes it that way, but it has been like that since my coming of age. Before that, it grew back at an incredibly fast rate, but now it thankfully doesn't grow past what it is now." He motioned to the tip of his beard where it touched the middle of his chest.

"Wow," Kili and Fili said in hushed tones, looking on with keen interest.

"Wait," Bofur began, sounding a little confused, "It grew back at a fast rate? Does that mean that you would…cut it?" He ended this question looking a little green.

Bilbo looked at him with a little surprise. "Actually, yes, I did. Or my father did, really."

The dwarves all gave gasps of horror at this, many of their faces becoming horribly pale. Ori, Kili, and Fili looked about to be violently sick. Bilbo looked at them with alarm. He knew that beards were very important to dwarves, but surely this reaction was a little extreme!

"Company! Grab your things! We're moving on. Now!" Thorin commanded, his voice loud and crashing like thunder in the silence of the clearing. The dwarves jumped to attention, moving instantly for their belongings and packing things away, though most everyone still shot horrified glances at the hobbit.

Bilbo shuffled uncomfortably at these, moving out of the clearing with his pack and following Gandalf into the woods. He lifted his head at the caress of a wandering breeze and heard the light trickling sound of a creek nearby. He sent a glance at the wizard, but seeing only a smile upon the wizened face, Bilbo moved off to find this river, wanting desperately to clean off the troll snot and dirt from his person. He also wanted to give his beard a thorough inspection, as it had been horribly mistreated all night long.

And if Thorin wished to scold him for this, well, he could just add another item to the list of things he disapproved of! Right under bearded hobbits, which must be at least in the top ten.

* * *

AN: And there you have it! –sigh- I'm pretty tuckered out now. :P Comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. ;D

Also, I have had a lot people asking that I make the ship a trio. As in Bilbo/Dwalin/Thorin. I am not sure yet, but this is a definite possibility! :) I love that trio too.

Next Chapter: Running from wargs, safety in Rivendell, and possible bath scene... ;)


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